Friendship Park Kaitlin Barker Davis USA As usual in December, the dirt road to Friendship Park is washed out from a rainstorm, so we walk the mile to the La Posada gathering. The mud smells faintly of fabric softener and will linger in the soles of my shoes for...
The Red Hand of Ulster Elyse Kallen USA ‘Do you know where the red hand comes from?’ Six American heads shake from side to side. ‘An ancient king cut off his hand and threw it to be the first to touch Ulster’s shore.’ With such a bloody start, it’s no wonder how...
The Count Shirley Huey USA Scene: Chino, a town of subdivisions and cattle pens—without traffic, less than an hour away from Los Angeles. At 8am, a pungent manure scent hangs in the hot summer air. The car windows are up, but I can’t escape the stench of cattle...
Common Ground Anna Souter England The sky was pale mauve-blue, as it can only be in the earliest days of the spring. We stopped for sandwiches and tea kept lukewarm by an ancient thermos in the lea of an immense pile of rocks dropped there by a glacier at the end of...
New Mexico Relics, 2015 Elizabeth Enslin USA From White Sands Missile Range Museum, I drive east on US Route 70 still mulling over the displays: colorful missiles arrayed like playground toys in an outdoor park, a miniature model of the ranch fifty miles away where...
